


What Remains to Be Said

by baku_midnight



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Drug Use, Fingering, Incest, M/M, Oral Sex, Possible dubcon because drug use, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-06
Updated: 2014-09-06
Packaged: 2018-02-16 07:59:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2261973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baku_midnight/pseuds/baku_midnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merle knows what he’s gotta do, and knows he’s only got one more night to let his brother know what he needs to hear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Remains to Be Said

**Author's Note:**

> In this story, Merle somehow finds out/figures out Rick’s plan to turn Michonne in to the Governor the night before he tells him so in canon.

Daryl’s knows he’s high as a kite and _pretty_ sure he’s hallucinating but as dreams go, this one’s pretty good.

 

Lying in a clean prison cot is better and worse than Daryl ever expected he would get – the prison isn’t exactly a surprise, but the clean sheets and plush mattress is a huge boon to his sense of self-worth. Criminals and losers and fuck-ups don’t get clean bedding, ergo, the fact that he’s currently lying in it is proof enough he’s none of those things. Lying with his head on his big brother’s chest, tucked under his arm and pressed all up against his sweaty flank is another bonus, he feels like a furnace and stinks like a dirty locker room but he’s there, big and solid, at Daryl’s side.

 

Merle shifts his right arm, the one currently under Daryl’s head, to pull the stubby joint to his lips for another pull. He sucks, cheeks tucking in around the sweet smoke, taking a nice, long drag and letting it out in a languid puff. He brings his hand down to Daryl’s mouth and his brother takes the offer, letting Merle maneuver the joint to his lips and press it gently in between, letting him take a good pull before taking it away, lowering his arm and carefully adjusting so that the smoldering joint is a good distance from his brother’s thin, soft hair.

 

Daryl settles down again, resting his head on Merle’s bicep, smiling to himself as he feels the muscle flex under his crown. Those big, strong arms have always protected him, held him, kept him – even with one of them damaged beyond repair Daryl has never felt safer than in his brother’s arms. He doesn’t think he’s been so happy and relaxed in months. Years, maybe.

 

Of course, the dope helps. After going without it for so long, Daryl can still notice the calming, gentling effects of the smoke, like a warm blanket draped over him, ribbons of silky-smooth fabric wrapping his entire body. He can’t help but think of the cotton off of cottonwood trees that drifted across the sky at the peak of Spring, covering everything with a whitish fuzz that seemed to dampen the sounds, making everything go quiet and soft. Kids at school said it was Spring snow. Merle told him it was tree-jizz.

 

Daryl chuckles to himself. Yeah, he’s _really_ high.

 

“What’s so funny, baby brother?” Merle drawls, his voice gravelly with smoke, shifting a little to look over at Daryl’s smiling face with a look of abject concern. He’s not used to the look of mirth Daryl is currently giving him.

 

“Nothin’. M’ just happy,” Daryl shrugs, his wide shoulders bumping the underside of Merle’s arm. The places where their skin touches feel like static electricity, a burning charge of energy that Daryl has come to associate with being around his brother. He knows somewhere inside that it’s probably wrong to feel that way for your own blood, but hey, it’s wrong to beat your kids and it’s wrong for the dead to walk, too. He’s told Merle as such. Or at least thinks he has – his mind has been a bit of a blur for the last few hours.

 

“I didn’t know he took the belt to you, really,” Merle says softly. Daryl feels Merle’s chest rise and fall as he lets out a shuddering breath. “If I knew, I wouldn’t’ve left.”

 

“Fuck off, man,” Daryl admonishes, shoving the heel of his hand into Merle’s ribs. He’s too happy right now to deal with heavy things like that. The drugs feel good, like a vacation. Of course, he hasn’t gotten so deep into them that he hurts to be without them, like Merle has. He knows Merle gets antsy without them and anxious with them – when he has them he’s afraid of taking them, and when he’s out he needs to find more. For a while, Daryl felt the same way about having his big brother around – when he was gone, it was a like a hole in his heart, but when he was home, Daryl didn’t know what to do with him.

 

“You know I always said daddy only put the hurt on you because you needed it,” Merle explains, licking his lips. The joint smolders to a nub in his hand and he tosses it against the concrete wall. “And _I_ did, sometimes, I know I did. I needed to be kept in line or I’d’ve spent way more time in prison than I did.”

 

Daryl huffs out an amused sound, his voice all high and soft in a way that makes Merle’s gut tighten up. He shifts and turns so he’s facing Daryl who’s lying on his side next to him, so close they’re nearly nose-to-nose. “But I’m beginnin’ t’ think he took the wrong approach with you. You didn’ need a firm hand, you needed love.”

 

Daryl’s lips widen into a smile that rises all the way to his bright green eyes. He snuggles closer into Merle’s side, hiding his nose in Merle’s filthy tank top. “Yeah-huh.”

 

“I mean it. You needed love. You deserved it. Hell, you _still_ deserve it.” Merle explains as though it’s all very matter-of-fact. He chews on the inside of his cheek and blames the smoke for the weak feeling in his knees, rubbing the stump of his hand against the rough pattern of his jeans and enjoying the pressure on his scars. It’s probably a metaphor for his current situation – sometimes digging at wounds is better than leaving them to fester, in the long run; you gotta get in there rough and scrape out the infection if you ever want it to heal.

 

“Why you bein’ so sweet t’ me?” Daryl chuckles, letting his eyes glide shut. He reaches down and hooks a finger into Merle’s belt as if it’s an anchor, holding them together.

 

Merle gives a lopsided smile, still tempered with an ever-present unease, like a deer living through hunting season and hearing shots firing all around his head. He pets a hand through his brother’s soft hair. “Only you, little brother. Only you.”

 

Daryl shifts on the bed, the movement making the springs underneath him squeak in protest. “You must be outta your mind,” he laughs, eyes heavy and chest filled with cottonwood cotton, “or _I_ am.”

 

Merle shuffles around to sit up, leaning on his good arm and hoisting his thick body up so that he’s leaning over Daryl, the mattress crying out for relief, unused to the weight of two grown men stressing its limits. He stares down at Daryl until the man looks up at him, eyes lidded, arms limp.

 

“An’ I said it’s a good thing I left home when I did,” Merle says out, his voice low and rasping, secretive. The wash of light from the moon fills up his stern face, the scars and grizzled lines stark in the silver glow. His eyes are dark with barely-contained savagery that makes Daryl’s heart pound against his ribcage. “Because if I’d known what he was doing to you, I would’ve come back there and ripped him limb-from-limb.”

 

Daryl stares up in awe at his big brother, too loose to really grip the words, make them sink in. All he really understands is the intense look in his brother’s eyes, the way his shoulders are tensed and squared, the way his good hand is gripping the back of Daryl’s head, fingers sinking into the smooth hair. It must be a dream. Merle has never showed him this sort of tenderness, not even when he was a baby. Daryl wonders, far back in his mind, the thoughts miles back across a long stretch of empty highway, if it has something to do with what Rick came to talk to Merle about earlier, after meeting with the Governor. The whole lot of them are fairly antsy after that, but Merle, well, he doesn’t get caught up in those sort of worries, he takes everything as it comes, so, the only answer is that this is a dream.

 

Merle reaches over so he’s balanced on both arms, his bad arm taking the weight of his body so he can stroke his hand down Daryl’s cheek and neck to land against his bared collarbone, smacking it lightly to encourage him to roll over. Daryl goes with a sleepy groan, rolling so he’s sprawled out on his back with Merle on top, hovering over him on all fours like a predator. He starts to move down Daryl’s body while Daryl is lazing sleepily against the mattress, until his nose is level with his little brother’s stomach.

 

Merle palms his hand roughly against Daryl’s crotch, sinking his tongue into Daryl’s navel at the same time.

 

“What the Hell, man?” Daryl jerks instantly, stopping as his head is starts to swim from lifting it too quickly. His head drops back down into the mattress and he reaches down instead, gripping Merle’s thick shoulder.

 

“Just lie still, little brother,” Merle mumbles, the rumble of his voice dancing up Daryl’s front as he licks generously at the soft swell of his stomach. Daryl’s grip on his shoulder grows tighter as he approaches the small hole of his navel, making teasing circles around it. He knows how sensitive his little brother is there, has known for a long many years of wrestling and touching, but never quite like this.

 

Merle flattens his tongue to sweep a large swath of sweaty skin, savouring the salty-bitter flavour of his brother’s flesh, letting his teeth dip into the sensitive swell, his nose brushing the bottom edge of his brother’s shirt, rucked up over his belly. His brother’s one-handed hold on his shoulder goes frantic, fingers gripping and re-gripping, short nails pressing in, breath huffing and puffing when Merle drives his tongue up inside his belly-button. Daryl almost shoots up the bed, hips bucking and chest arching, as Merle works the point of his tongue in deeper, pushing upwards, tongue-fucking the tiny hole.

 

“You crazy…fuck…what you doin’…” Daryl chokes out, his body hypersensitive after going for so long without a single touch. It’s a damn shame, Merle thinks, but on the other hand, he’s grateful for his brother’s imposed celibacy, wherever it came from. The idea that he’s the first one to touch his brother – maybe the _only_ one – makes his stomach clench with something dark and real – possessiveness and pride, hot and ferocious.

 

Merle jams his tongue into the tiny hole until he feels Daryl’s erection begin to bulge underneath his hand, palming it gently while he floods Daryl’s navel with saliva, practically drooling with excitement over his brother’s body. He finally relents when Daryl cries out and snaps his head back, chin pointing towards the ceiling, panting loud enough to fill up the entire empty cellblock.

 

Merle pulls away, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, pushing himself up onto his knees between Daryl’s legs so he can start to unhook his belt.

 

“Come on, whatchu doin’,” Daryl asks but it’s more of a plea, trying and failing to lift his head and look down at his brother between his knees. He reaches down to stop Merle’s hand but is slapped away for his efforts, forced to let Merle undress him, each movement of his hand jostling his jeans against the tip of his erection and making him squirm. Merle works steadily but clumsily with one hand, flicking the belt open and undoing Daryl’s fly with practiced ease, pulling his damp briefs down under his dick so it stands pointing towards his stomach, balls supported in the cradle of the elastic.

 

“Lemme touch you, little brother,” Merle asks and Daryl goes willingly, pressing his hands into the mattress on either side of his thighs, “lemme do this for you.”

 

“You don’t…have to,” Daryl answers softly, though showing no sign of resisting. His hips rise up into Merle’s touch, legs shifting further apart. Merle swallows hard and presses onward, taking the tip of Daryl’s erection into his mouth, and sliding his lips down over the crown.

 

Daryl practically goes wild, back arching taut like a drawn bow, throwing back his head with a long whine. A few gasped-out curses flood his lips and he reaches down to grip Merle’s shoulders before remembering he doesn’t want to impede, and dropping his hands back to the mattress. His hands take up great handfuls of sheet, the fabric creaking under his hands as Merle sucks, just teasing the head of his cock with his lips and tongue.

 

Merle circles the crown with the tip of his tongue and then sinks lower, taking Daryl’s length while his brother howls above him. Merle slides down as far as he can manage, cock sliding all the way back in his mouth, curling his tongue around the shaft before letting it slip out again. Daryl curses and whimpers, fists wrenching the sheets loose from the sides of the mattress.

 

“Merle…oh… _Christ_ …” Daryl groans out as Merle sucks, lips wet with saliva, trailing down the edges of his jaw. He bobs his head once, twice and Daryl whines, panting hard through his mouth while he tries not to come then and there.

 

But it’s not enough, not deep enough, not complete enough to satisfy either of them. Merle tugs impatiently at the elastic impeding his progress, gripping Daryl’s dick hard with his hand and trying to tug his jeans down with the other. Daryl screams at the grip and reaches down, panting frantically, and puts his hand over Merle’s, forcing his big brother to notice the stress he’s in.

 

Daryl looks an utter wreck, lips wet and hair damp with sweat, sticking to his forehead in long, straight lines, eyes dark with want. He lays his hand just against Merle’s wrist, eyes filled with a plea that drives Merle’s impatience even higher.

 

Merle lets go of Daryl and grabs the bundle of his jeans, wrenching them down his thighs roughly. He can barely accomplish anything one-handed until Daryl starts to help him, taking the other side and pulling down his pants with a shaking hand. Together they get Daryl’s pants and underwear down around his ankles so his knees can fall open, ankles over Merle’s shoulders and behind his neck, Merle in between the circle of his legs.

 

Merle stares in awe as Daryl lets his legs fall even wider, sliding his thighs up around Merle’s ears with a look of unabashed _want_ in his eyes. Merle keeps his eyes locked with his brother’s as he takes his cock in his mouth, jaw slack to take in as much as he can, watching Daryl’s face twist with pleasure before he throws his head back into the mattress.

 

He lets himself sink as far down over Daryl’s cock as he can, then sucks hard as he pulls away, teasing precum out of the slit with the tip of his tongue. He bobs his head a few times, repeating the process, harder and harder each pull, slipping his fingers around the ball sack and squeezing roughly. Daryl’s legs just aren’t wide enough, open enough for where he wants to be and Merle reaches up to grip one thigh and press it wider. It’s no good holding two thighs with one hand, he can’t get the grip he wants and he growls with frustration, pulling off entirely with a wet smack.

 

Then, Daryl reaches down and puts his hands gently on the inside of his own thighs, spreading them open for Merle’s admittance. Merle stares at him in astonishment as his little brother opens himself, willingly, giving himself entirely to Merle’s disposal. Merle groans and lunges forward again, sucking him down hard, ravenous like he’s starving for it.

 

Merle pulls off, swirling spit and precum in his mouth before sinking two fingers in past his teeth. He shifts his body to take the pressure off of his hips and his own straining erection, the action causing his shoulders to ram up under Daryl’s thighs and making him twitch. Merle shushes him gently before tracing his wet fingers down Daryl’s throbbing shaft and lower, lower until he’s right up against his hole and pressing one fingertip right against the small pucker.

 

“ _Ooh…_ ” Daryl moans, flinching away from the touch while still holding his thighs open. Merle shushes and sooths him, voice a soft rasp, sinking his finger inside at the same time he closes his mouth over Daryl’s cock again.

 

Daryl gasps at the feeling, and Merle bobs his head in time with the thrust of his finger, driving it deeper each time. It doesn’t take long for Daryl to accept the intrusion, but he’s tight, so tight his body draws Merle’s finger in each time, and clings to it as it pulls out. Merle groans, something low and vicious in his throat as he sticks in the second finger, feeling Daryl’s body go tight all the way up as the second digit breeches him.

 

“Oh…no…God… _Merle_ …” Daryl pants frantically, as Merle finds that place just behind his balls that makes him arch all the way off of the bed. He groans as Merle takes him deep in his throat, jamming his fingers in to the hilt and just holding him there, speared with nowhere to go. Mercifully, Merle pulls away just slowly, before ramming his fingers back in and fucking him hard with his hand.

 

“ _Mmngh!_ ” Daryl grunts out, hips trembling, moving into Merle’s movements as his fingers fuck him and his mouth sucks him down. Merle bobs his head faster, harder, taking him so deep his nose lands in Daryl’s damp hair, taking in his scent before pushing, just _hard_ , with his two fingers inside Daryl’s body, right against that spot inside him that makes him see stars and _cry_ out, hips arching up and driving him deep down his brother’s throat.

 

Daryl doesn’t even know he comes until after it’s done and he’s leaking spurts of cum down Merle’s throat, fingers pumping firmly in and out of him until he’s over-sensitised and gasping, hips churning and stomach going tight. Merle keeps working him up, just until the edge of where he can’t take anymore and he bucks, still holding himself obediently open as Merle pulls off of his cock and slides his fingers out of him.

 

A drop of spit and cum drips out of Merle’s mouth and lands on the joinder of his brother’s thigh, sliding down to the well between his cock and leg and Merle watches it go, mouth wet and sore as he pants to get back his breath. He sinks down and licks the drop away, basking in the way Daryl flinches and tosses his head to the side, unable to bear it anymore.

 

“Merle…” Daryl begs, beyond words, voice cracking as he stares imploringly down at his brother.

 

Merle looks down at him and feels like his heart is breaking and he doesn’t know why, he feels overwhelmed, suddenly, with love for his brother and surges forward, up through the circle of his legs, until he’s lying on top and covering Daryl with his entire body.

 

“I got you,” Merle rasps, wrapping a hand around Daryl’s head and pulling him into his neck, nuzzling gruffly at his head. “I got you, baby, I got you,” he repeats, a mantra, stubble rough against Daryl’s neck, cheek as he rubs against him. Daryl’s arms come up and around his neck, pulling him tight, eyes flooded with unshed tears Merle can’t stand to see.

 

“Merle,” Daryl gets out in barely a whisper, voice trembling as he buries deep into Merle’s shoulder, rubbing his eyes on the collar of his shirt. He holds tighter to his big brother, legs wrapped around his back and arms around his neck, clinging to him desperately, no part of his body not touching. He feels Merle’s hard arousal between his legs and his breath hitches, rubbing automatically against the lump in his jeans.

 

“It’s alright, darlin’, no need,” Merle puts his hand down in between them, pushing Daryl off of him, though disconnecting them is the hardest thing he’s ever done. “It’s all for you, tonight, baby brother, all for you.”

 

Daryl shudders and Merle squeezes hard, wrapping his arm around Daryl’s head and brushing through his soft brown hair with his rough fingers, the same ones that were just inside him, the gentleness of his stroking an intense counterpoint to the roughness of his thrusting hand that Daryl notices with stark awareness.

 

“Why are you so kind to me?” Daryl asks, voice trembling, muffled by Merle’s shoulder. Merle turns over so he can get an arm under Daryl’s head to pillow it, wrapping him up tight in his arms. He doesn’t answer, _can’t_ answer, for once in his life, Merle Dixon is totally lost for words.

 

“Get some sleep, little brother,” Merle whispers into Daryl’s hair, his baby brother’s arms still tight around him, clinging like he’ll never let go, “you know I’m right here with you, right here with you.”

 

Daryl’s breathing gets slower, softer as he settles down, eyes drifting shut as he falls asleep. Merle lies there stroking Daryl’s hair, guiding his hand down his cheek, the high midnight moon glowing down on them, sending undulating rivulets of silver light down across his baby brother’s face.

 

 

When Daryl wakes up, there’s no sign of his brother. Even in a locked cell, Merle managed to get away from him.

 

He rolls over to the empty side of the bed, smoothing a hand down the cool sheet, and knows even clearer, then, that it was all just a dream.


End file.
